


End!verse drabbles

by ReturnFrom_86



Category: Supernatural
Genre: End!verse, Episode: s05e04 The End, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReturnFrom_86/pseuds/ReturnFrom_86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For whydouwantaname's end!verse bonanza since it's almost 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something my sleep deprived brain knocked out. I have a disturbing fascination with how Cas turned to drugs.

## Why the drugs Cas?

  
To numb the pain,  
A blissful escape  
A coward's hideaway.

  
To ease the ache,  
A calloused caress  
A desolate glance.

  
To blur the reality,  
A beautiful haze  
A cloying fog.

  
To embolden the love,  
A desire reciprocated  
A coldness received.

  
To forget the past,  
A nostalgic dream  
A regretful nightmare.

  
To ignore the future,  
A glorious battle  
A gruesome massacre.

  
To end the suffering of the,  
Righteous man  
And his  
Fallen angel.


	2. When's the last time we touched?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With backlash from the community, Dean and Cas must break off their relationship. This little fic is set a month later. Obligatory angst for end!verse although I'm a sucker for a happy ending.

The sweat glistened on his flushed skin and his breath came heavy as he relentlessly swung the axe at the tree. The people around him absorbed the power emanating from his very being and tried desperately to push themselves, encouraged by their fearless leader, but none could match his insane pace. Dean Winchester was lost, buried deep inside himself, with only the rhythmic swing of the axe rooting him to reality. The night before, Cas had gotten himself completely wasted as per normal, but last night he'd stormed topless into the meeting room and flounced up to Dean, demanding "a good fuck for old times sake". Dean had gripped tightly onto Cas's upper arm as he marched him out of the room, avoiding the eyes of community members present. It had been little under a month since Dean had last felt Cas's scorching skin under his fingers, since they'd been forced to quit each other or lose the partial stability of the lives they'd built for themselves. If it weren't so painful, Dean could have laughed at the absurdity of it, living in a post-apocalyptic world with death etched onto every cell of every person still alive and they still couldn't cope with their fearless and ruthless leader being in love with a fallen angel, or a guy, either way the community found it distasteful. The memory of the day his lieutenant's had told him to let Cas go still sent trembles down Dean's body as acid repulsion stewed in his stomach, that day and for many days after it, Dean was a hair's breadth away from killing them _all_. Dean swung the axe harder, concentrating solely on his muscle movement, pushing away all thoughts of Cas, but the way he'd let go of Cas's arm once they were outside in the cool, night air still tormented him. His grip on the axe handle instinctively tightened, he'd made himself let go of Cas, his fingers had tingled with lingering heat which Dean denied them. Cas's eyes were clouded by the drugs but were desperately trying to stay focused on Dean's face, Cas tilted his head to the side inviting Dean's hand to his cheek, but Dean fought to still his wandering arm. "Go home," Dean commanded, surprised at the steadiness of his voice, "but Dean-", "just go, Cas". The betrayal plain on Cas's face tore at Dean's chest, all those nights they'd spent together whispering promises into kisses and screaming them out to the dark abyss were a shared curse, twisted into their own hells. The rest of the night had been full of heavy drinking and bitter, tear drenched anger, it had been so on the night they'd officially parted romantically and on every other night he'd been reminded of what he'd lost with Cas. A loud crack pulled Dean from his inner depths as his axe swung at air, momentum kept it moving as Dean had no choice but to follow the path of the swing. He ended up in a heap on the ground, twigs and bark cutting into his skin and sticking to the sweat, some of the crowd started to laugh but a dark, murderous look from their leader silenced them, others ran to his aid but he pushed them away with an angry grunt. Dean twisted around to push himself off the ground and grunted in pain as his ankle burned and throbbed. Biting his lip he continued to stand up, cursing his stubborn dismissal of help, once up he collected his things and limped away from his fallen tree, holding his head high, green eyes fixed staring forwards. A hand landed on his shoulder, "Sir, you need to get those wounds seen to, you've got a splinter the size of your arm sticking out your leg". Dean trailed his eyes downwards and sure enough a piece of tree shrapnel had stuck itself below his calf, slicing downwards as if aiming for his heel. "Don't worry Bruce, I'm going to go get myself fixed up right away, you look after things while I'm getting sorted, ok", Dean continued on his way, absently patting the man on the back, dizziness was making it hard to walk and the brightness of the sunlight seemed to be pulsating, but Dean knew he'd make it to where he wanted to go, the pressure to see him had built up too much not to, he'd always make it to Cas.

The sun had already began it's descent below the horizon as the dying rays painted the sky lush reds and oranges, but Dean kept his eyes focused on the cold, dark ground. Dean limped towards the cabin he'd known intimately only a month ago, but was now as estranged to him as the beauty of the sunset. Smoke surrounded the shack, the smokiness and smells were ingrained into the wood as Dean reached the ajar door and halted. The warmth from within leaked out and the slightly hazy light welcomed Dean, however he could not bring himself over the threshold. Turning around sharply away from the door he let out a pitiful yelp as he leaned heavily on his injured leg, Dean's chest clenched tight around his fervently beating heart as a noise from inside the cabin was followed by a husky voice. "What do you want Dean?" Sighing deeply from the way his body still shivered at his name falling from the lips of his ex-angel, Dean replied in a steady tone, "nothing Cas, just hurt my leg, thought you could help, stupid idea". He started to limp away again, keeping his head firmly forwards not once looking behind him at Cas. "Dean", again his name sent a thrill through him that he would not be able to suppress if he lived a thousand years, "you have a branch sticking out of your leg. I can help". Cas's voice was cautiously avoiding sounding tender, it sounded too clinical and it made Dean want to run far away and not have to experience the coolness behind the words. Turning slowly around to face Cas, Dean's eyes wandered everywhere but on Cas's face, an uncomfortable adjustment he'd made to his life since their parting. Cas's eyes had always been full of adoration for Dean, piercing into his very soul and not been ashamed by what he saw and never ceasing to hold the gaze of his own green eyes. The brilliant blue might have seemed cold to some, but Dean had only ever felt warmth and comfort in their stare. Shuffling towards the entrance of the cabin Dean kept his eyes low, blaming the water in his eyes on the intense pain in his leg and not in his chest. Cas took a step away from the injured man, keeping about a foot away as he followed behind through the door. Two days after they had ended whatever they had been, Dean had visited Cas unable to stop himself, Cas had frantically kicked syringes under the bed and desperately masked all signs of drugs from Dean's view. A sickly shame had coloured Cas's face as Dean pretended he hadn't seen, although the pained glances at Cas that Dean barely withheld only added to both their discomfort that day. Moving towards the bed, Dean waited for Cas to move some used syringes from one part of the bed to another to clear some space, the air was hot and thick and a still smoking spliff was balanced on the blackened remains of many others. The smaller man stared down Dean as the fearless leader finally dragged his eyes up to make contact with the icy blue ones. Cas's eyes provoked Dean, dared him to make a comment, they were begging for some form of emotion, even a rebuke, but Dean just sagged down onto the bed. 

The residual fumes of the room alone numbed the pain in Dean's leg, but Cas still gave him a minimal dose of something he'd pre-prepared for himself. As Dean's mind began to calm and drift he looked down with heavy eyes at the man kneeling before him. A chord of recognition struck Dean about the position but in his dazed state he failed to grasp at the tendrils of where the dwindling memory would lead. Cas worked on Dean's leg with cool efficiency and the barest of touches, wrenching the wood from his patient's ankle with reserved sympathy but letting some disgust flicker across his face as he threw the wood onto a pile of rubbish in the corner of the room. Dean leaned back on the bed, dizzily happy at the hatred Cas had focused onto the piece of wood that had made him bleed. Time marched on relentless in the sweaty cocoon of the cabin and Dean's head began to pound with every beat of a second, Cas had begun moving the medical things into equally untidy but more hidden piles in his room and Dean's eyes trailed his every step. Every so often Cas would catch his eye and a smirk would break out on his face, but would be replaced with a resilient indifference quickly. Dean's face felt slack and pliable and a stupid grin was stuck on his face, if a croat ran into the room that second he'd be shooting lead into the thing with a huge, goofy smile, Dean laughed at the image and felt his leaden limbs shake with his outburst, beaming idiotically at Cas as he replied to Dean's dopey giggling with an exasperated glare. The heaviness in Dean's arms prevented him from reaching over to Cas and giving him a playful nudge, Dean stopped himself, even if he could control his limbs, no way was his relationship with Cas the playful, lively thing it had once been. There had been a time when Cas's lack of humorous knowledge had been endearing to Dean, freely making comic remarks to the ex-angel and waiting for the confusion to take hold as he questioned why Dean was bent double with laughter. Cas had been a quick learner and would tenderly nudge Dean's arm as he grew to understand the jokes and Dean was fascinated by his friends grasp of their own in-jokes, and the dirty jokes were a cause for excitement too. Cas had stopped moving around and stood over Dean, looking at him without seeing him, "I've done what I could, you should be able to find someone to change the bandages twice a day until it looks like it doesn't need it anymore. If there is a problem you can come back, but there shouldn't be a problem." An awkward quiet descended on them both, and even in his slightly intoxicated state the loud silence sitting heavily between them made Dean uncomfortable. Sweat began to glisten on Cas's face, not the glowing sheen of two bodies rolling and grinding together in their own heated bliss that Dean could still taste on his lips, but the sickly, sticky and shivering cold sweat that clings to the near dead. Cas's body had started mild tremors and his fingers were restless, he needed his fix, and although the drug use was no secret, there was still a sliver of dignity within the fallen angel that would not allow his friend to actually see him at his most shameful. Dean eyed the syringes and joints that littered the cabin, left out in plain sight as a provocation towards him, but then stared sadly at Cas as he stared hungrily at a syringe by Dean's hand. The ever present guilt Dean dragged after him suddenly loomed even larger, its shadow muffled Dean in darkness and drowned the dying embers of his druggy buzz as he in that instant came to realise the true depths by which Cas had fallen, it hit him like a truck and left him gasping for air, it had all been for Dean.

Wrenching himself from his internal struggle Cas kneeled down and leaned over Dean who was desperately pulling air into his lungs, gently raising a hand to stroke through Dean's hair. Dean's hair had been slightly longer back when things were easier, like running a hand through silk, but the fearless leader needed practicality and the short hair bristled and scratched against Cas's hand, but Cas continued anyway. Slowly Dean's breaths steadied and he leaned his head back into Cas's touch, his face relaxed and eyes closed with a hint of a smile ghosting on his lips. It could have been Dean from a year ago, it could have been Dean from 5 years ago, the comforting effect of Cas was Dean's own addiction, a brutal, ruthless and cruel addiction for the world he lived in now. Unable to deny himself any longer Dean brought his hand up to Cas's cheek, stroking gently with his thumb, the first time Dean had done that Cas had beamed at him and turned his head to kiss Dean's palm. Opening his eyes Dean looked up at the man who's face he was caressing, the hand in his hair had fallen to rest on the bed and Cas's eyes were still full of exposed hunger, but this time his piercing eyes were fixed unwavering on Dean's own. The drugged fog cleared, and even though Cas's body still shook with ferocious force he clung onto Dean with a greater ferocity, fingers gripping at the man's shirt. Cas lowered his forehead to Dean's neck, his skin cool and greasy against Dean's warm skin, and muttered repeatedly under his breath, "don't go again". Dean lay frozen at the man's sudden outpour of emotion and agony, unable to move in case he pushed them back over the precipice from which they'd both climbed over. Eventually he gave in to the crying out of his fingers to feel Cas under them, he ran a hand tenderly up Cas's back, feeling a shiver completely unrelated to the desperate want for drugs, carding it through his hair Dean murmured in his ear, "it's ok, it's ok Cas, I'm not going anywhere", a lie he knew, lies that brought comfort were his speciality, but Cas stilled under him, tensing sightly, his muttering replaced with a sigh of disappointment and hurt. Again the guilt raged within Dean, hatred overspilling into every nerve of his body at the unfairness of it all, at the way his body burned to envelope Cas in the little love he'd managed to smuggle within him through the apocalypse and the cruel backlash they'd both received. Running his arm around Cas's waist lest he run away, Dean again whispered in his ear, "Cas, it's ok, I'm not going anywhere", Cas sobbed and struggled slightly against his arm, but Dean's strength was far greater, "Cas, I'm not going anywhere," each word was raised from the depths of Dean's leaden down soul, they soured up and every time they left his mouth they washed away another layer of lies, "I'm not going anywhere", became his hymn to reach out and sooth Cas who began sobbing along with Dean's words. A memory rushed to Dean's mind, when Sam had left him with a sad hug and doom laden eyes as Lucifer had finally broken down his reserve, warm hands had wound round his chest where he'd fallen onto the floor as his brother's footsteps dwindled to silence, soft lips had brushed against the back of his next and breathed words directly into his very soul, "It's ok Dean, I'm not going anywhere, it's ok". Cas had held him for hours, even when he let go to feed the man, he'd never really stopped the contact. Cas tightened his grip on the shirt beneath him and nuzzled closer to Dean's neck as tears painfully sprang from Dean's disused and abandoned tear ducts in his eyes. Cas lifted his head and brought it back down to crash his lips onto Dean's, they were a vision of desperation and longing, but they were exactly where they needed to be, clinging to each other, there for each other. As their rhythms slowed and became less desperate, Dean felt his guilt crawl away to sit and stew in the dark places where it lived in his soul, they never again would allow fate or destiny or human ignorance or hate to separate them. The sun lazily shone dimly through the lower slats of the blinds as the two men murmured promises to each other between sighs of pleasure and hope, the light dragged with it a new day of borrowed time at the end of the world, Dean and Cas held each other, and never let go again.


End file.
